Crossroad Blues
by Dede42
Summary: When several people are apparently killed by a large black dog, the Winchesters go to investigate and learn that each victim had become overnight success in just ten years and had all gone to the same isolated bar next to a crossroad. Realizing that they're dealing with a crossroad demon and hell hounds, it's up to the hunters to save the life of a man, who is being targeted next.
1. Chapter 1: BLACK DOGS?

Supernatural: Crossroad Blues

A/N: Greetings! So, this story won't be as long as the last one, but it won't be too short either, and I'll be introducing a new type of demon and big scary doggies.

Read, review, and enjoy!

Disclaimer: I don't own anything from _Supernatural_ or _Criminal Minds_. I just own any and all characters that I just happen create.

* * *

**CHAPTER ONE: BLACK DOGS?**

"_As a dog returneth to his vomit, __so__ a fool returneth to his folly__."_

_Proverbs 26: 11_

Greenwood, Mississippi

August 1938…

It was nighttime, and at a local saloon, a young black man named Robert Johnson was seated on a small stage, playing. His head was down, and a cigarette dangled from his mouth. The room was sparsely populated with people listening intently. And one woman near the front stared at him, smiling as if the show was just for her, and occasionally he looked up and caught her eye, and even winked once.

It was then he heard the growling of a dog, outside; he paused, but when he heard nothing else, he resumed. Again, he stopped, hearing eerie barking that nobody else seemed to notice, and saw a dark shape flitting past the window. The cigarette fell from his mouth; he was terrified. He stood, clutching his guitar, and bolted from the room in terror. The woman and several others followed, wondering what gotten into him.

* * *

After walking at a fast pace for several minutes, Robert stopped, listening for the dog. He heard it, dropped the guitar, and ran.

* * *

Soon Robert ran into a wooden house and bolted the door behind him; he heard the scrabbling and barking of the dog and drew a chair across the floor, wedging it under the door. He backed up slowly, and then sank to his knees, weeping, for he knew that he wouldn't get to see another sunrise. The door rattled violently until it flew open; two men and the woman from earlier entered to find Robert sprawled on the floor, convulsing.

"What is going on?" one of the men asked, alarmed.

"Oh my God!" the woman cried as she went to Robert, running her hands over him, and looked back to the men. "Get a doctor. Run!"

Both men ran back out into the night, and the woman leaned over Robert, patting his face. "What happened? Talk to me!"

"Dogs…" Robert gasped, wheezing.

"Stay with us, baby!" the woman cried, clutching at his shoulders now.

"Dogs…Black dogs…" Robert repeated his eyes began glazing over as he took his last breath.

"Robert? Robert, don't you die on me!" the woman cried again, but it was too late: the famous Robert Johnson was dead.

* * *

Present day…

The Winchesters were in a diner, eating their respective lunches, and they all were glad that the place wasn't too busy since that meant Sam didn't have to worry about being overwhelmed with too many emotions since his empathic ability was still giving him troubles, and it showed since he was only picking at his chicken salad.

"Sam, please eat," Liz pleaded. "You're already thin as it is, you don't need to lose anymore weight."

Sam sighed. "I'm working on it, Liz, I'm working on it." And proved it by eating a few more bites.

Dean took a sip from his Coke and nodded to the pile of paper. "All right. What do you got on the case there?" he asked, wiping his mouth with a napkin.

Sam set his fork down and pulled out several pages of research. "Architect Sean Boyden plummeted to his death from the roof of his home, a condominium he designed."

Dean snorted. "Hmm. Build a high-rise and jump off the top of it. That's classy. When did he call animal control?"

Sam checked the paper. "Two days earlier."

"Did he actually say Black Dog?" Liz asked.

Sam nodded. "Yeah. A vicious, wild, black dog," he confirmed. "The authorities couldn't find it, no one else saw it; in fact, the authorities are a little confused as to how a wild dog could get past the doorman, take the elevator up and start roaming the halls of the cushiest joint in town. After that, no more calls, he doesn't show up for work, two days later he takes a swan dive."

Dean thought about it. "Do you think we're dealing with an actual Black Dog?"

Sam shrugged. "Well, maybe."

"What's the lore on it?" Liz asked.

Sam shrugged again, passing them the pages. "It's all pretty vague," he admitted. "I mean, there are spectral black dogs all over the world, but…some say they're animal spirits, others say death omens. But anyways, whatever they are, they're big, nasty…"

Dean examined the artwork of a massive black dog. "Yeah, I bet they could hump the crap outta your leg, look at that one, huh?" he joked, holding up a picture and smirked; both Liz and Sam glared, and the smirk slipped. "What? They could."

"Grow up, Dean."

* * *

In a posh, well-lit room, Sam, Liz, and Dean were wearing suits and they were interviewing a man.

"So, you and Sean Boyden were business partners for almost ten years, right?" Sam asked.

The man nodded. "That's right. Now one more time, this is for…?"

"A tribute to Mr. Boyden. Architectural Digest," Dean responded and the man laughed. "This funny to you?"

The man quickly shook his head. "No, it…it's just, a tribute." He then sighed. "Yeah. See, Sean always got the tributes. He kills himself, leaves me and his family behind… well, he gets another tribute."

"Right. Any idea why he'd do such a thing?" Liz asked.

The man shrugged. "I, I have no clue, I mean he lived a charmed life."

"How so?" Sam asked.

"He was a flat-out genius," the man explained. "I mean, I'm capable, but next to him, I… and it wasn't always that way, either."

Dean raised his eyebrows and exchanged a look with Liz. "No?"

The man nodded. "You wanna know the truth? There was a time where he couldn't even design a pup tent. Hell, ten years ago he's working as a bartender at this place called Lloyd's. A complete dive."

"Right. So what changed?" Sam asked.

The man shrugged again. "You got me. But overnight, he gets this huge commission, and he starts designing…he starts designing the most ingenious buildings anyone has ever seen. It was like, the level of Van Gogh, and Mozart…" he then stopped talking abruptly.

"What?" Liz asked.

"It's funny," the man remarked, having realized something. "True geniuses, they seem to die young, don't they? To have that kind of talent? Why…why just throw it away?"

The Winchesters exchanged a look, thanked him for his time, and then left while pondering the same thing. If you were so talented and successful, why kill yourself?

* * *

A while later, Dean left a building designated ANIMAL PROTECTION AGENCY, still wearing the suit. Both Sam and Liz were waiting in the car, and Dean got in the driver's side.

"So?" Sam asked.

"Secretary's name is Carly," Dean said, making his siblings sighed. "She's twenty three, she, uh, kayaks, and they're real."

Sam rolled his eyes while Liz groaned. "You didn't happen to ask her if she's seen any black dogs lately, did you?"

Dean held up a page. "Every complaint called in this week about anything big, black, or dog-like. There's nineteen calls in all. And, uh," he then pulled off a Post-it note. "I don't know what this thing is."

Sam took it, read it, and laughed; Liz looked over his shoulder, read what was on the note, too, and also laughed, realizing what it was.

Sam glanced at Dean, who was looking confused. "You mean Carly's MySpace address?"

"Yeah, MySpace, what the hell is that?" Dean asked and they laughed again. "Seriously, is that like some sort of porn site?"

Sam and Liz didn't bother to answer, they were laughing too hard.

* * *

After recovering, the Winchesters went to each of the names on the list, striking out each time; soon they approached, yet _another_, white suburban door and knocked.

"I swear, if this is another freakin' Pomeranian barking in the neighbor's yard…" Dean grumbled and then smiled when the door opened to reveal a young woman. "Afternoon, ma'am," he said, pulling out an ID. "Uh, Animal Control."

"Oh, someone already came yesterday," the woman told them.

"Oh, we're just following up," Sam said quickly. "We're looking for Dr. Sylvia Pearlman?"

* * *

Soon they were inside, and the woman led them into the kitchen area.

"The doctor, well, she, I don't know exactly when she'll be back, she left two days ago."

"Okay. And you are…?" Liz asked.

"I'm Ms. Pearlman's maid," the woman responded.

Dean looked around the kitchen. "So where did Dr. Pearlman go?"

"I'm not sure," the woman admitted. "She just packed and went, she didn't say where. That stray dog, did you find it finally?"

Sam shook his head. "Oh, not yet. You know, you didn't ever happen to see the dog yourself, did you?"

The woman shook her head. "Well, no. I never even heard it." Meanwhile, Dean took a photograph off the wall: it showed Dr. Pearlman at a bar with two friends. "I was almost starting to think the Doctor was imagining things, but she's not like that, so…"

"Hey, you know I read she was, uh chief surgeon at the hospital," Dean cut in, glancing at the back of the photo. "She's gotta be what, forty two, forty three? That's pretty young for that job."

The woman nodded. "Youngest in the history of the place. She got the position…ten years ago?"

"Huh."

"Huh. An overnight success. Ten years ago," Liz remarked.

"Yeah, we know a guy like that," agreed Dean. "Oh, look at this." He held up the photo, and flipped it over to show writing on the back. "Lloyd's Bar."

* * *

In a rumpled hotel room with red curtains and sheets, a forty-something woman, Dr. Pearlman was huddling on the bed. Her hair was frazzled and she was terrified, flinching at the slightest noise and hugging her arms around herself. Soon she stood, and began pacing.

"Oh god."

She heard a loud pounding at the door, and whirled to face it, frozen.

_`"Ms. Pearlman? I've been calling for hours,"`_ said a man outside the door. _`"You need to vacate the room or you gotta pay for another night!"`_

Swallowing, she opened the door and poked her head out. "Okay. No problem."

She then went to the bed and opened her wallet, pulling out some cash; as she turned back to the door, she saw the man's face stretch hideously, mouth opening wide and eyes rolling back in his head. She gasped, tossed the money down at his feet, shut the door and chained it; she then leaned against it, panting. Oh god…_why_ was this happening to her?!

* * *

After changing their clothes, the Winchesters pulled up outside Lloyd's Bar and got out. As they walked towards the bar, both Dean and Liz noticed some yellow flowers growing by the side of the road, and they stopped walking.

"Hey."

Sam stopped and looked at them. "Yeah?"

"That's weird," Dean commented as he and Liz examined the crossroads; on more than one corner, the yellow flowers were growing.

"What?" Sam asked.

Liz nodded to the yellow flowers. "Think someone planted these?"

Sam now looked at the flowers and frowned. "Middle of all these weeds?" and they walked over to the nearest ones.

"These are, uh, what do you call 'em?" Dean asked, having forgotten the name.

"Yarrow flowers?" Sam suggested.

Dean nodded. "Yeah. Used for certain rituals, aren't they?"

"Yeah, actually," Sam agreed. "Summoning rituals."

Dean smirked. "Heh. So, two people become sudden successes about ten years ago. Right around the time they were hanging out here at Lloyd's."

Liz raised her eyebrows. "Where there just happens to be a crossroads. You think?"

"Let's find out," Dean suggested, walked to the center of the crossroads and looked around, measuring. "This seem about the dead center to you?"

* * *

A short while later, Dean dug a few inches into the hard soil and hit something solid. He stopped. "Yahtzee." He dropped the shovel and dug with his hands, pulling out an old rusted box, and he opened it. Inside was, among other things, several small bones and a small, stoppered jar that Sam took out.

"I'd be willing to bet that's graveyard dirt. And a black cat bone," he added, nodding to the bone that Liz had picked up; she grimaced and quickly dropped it, wiping her hand on her jeans.

"Yuck."

"That's serious spell-work." Dean remarked. "I mean…that's Deep South Hoodoo stuff."

Sam nodded as they straightened up. "Used to summon a demon."

"Not just summon one," Dean pointed out. "Crossroads are where pacts are made. These people are _actually_ making deals with the damn thing. You know, 'cause that always ends good."

"They're seeing dogs, all right," Liz agreed grimly. "But not Black Dogs, they're seeing Hellhounds. Demonic pit bulls."

Dean nodded as he shut the box. "Yeah, whoever this demon is, it's back and it's collecting. And that doctor lady? Wherever she's running? She ain't running fast enough." And that was the understatement of the year.

* * *

Inside Dr. Pearlman's hotel room, the door was rattling violently, and she was crouching by the window, screaming. The rattling stopped unexpectedly, along with all the growling, and she got up warily.

Suddenly something invisible burst through the window, knocking her to the ground; screaming again, she scrabbled backwards along the floor, away from the scratching and growling. Something, still invisible, with sharp claws grabbed her leg and shredded it, leaving bloody trails. Soon she was pulled across the floor, grasping at the bed sheets and screaming.

* * *

A/N: Eek! I just scared myself. R&amp;R everyone!


	2. Chapter 2: GOOFER DUST

Supernatural: Crossroad Blues

A/N: Hello, now since the Hell Hounds are invisible and we have no idea of what they actually look like, I've come to the conclusion that they probably look like the creepy dogs introduced in the movie version of the scary dogs in _The Hunger Games_.

Read, review, and enjoy!

Disclaimer: I don't own anything from _Supernatural_ or _Criminal Minds_. I just own any and all characters that I just happen create.

* * *

**CHAPTER TWO: GOOFER DUST**

"_Then did I beat them small as the dust before the wind: I did cast them out as the dirt in the streets__."_

_Psalms 18: 42_

Rosedale, Mississippi

1930…

Robert Johnson knelt in the dust at the dead center of the crossroads; he buried a rough sack tied with a string. He wore a hat and a brown blazer and had a guitar slung around his back. After patting the ground flat, he stood. Suddenly behind him was a beautiful young black woman in a white dress; he turned and saw her.

"Holy…" he gasped, startled.

"Holy?" the demon repeated as her eyes burned red for a moment. "Guess again." And she walked slowly towards him on bare feet.

Robert swallowed. "I want to play guitar," he told her before his courage failed him. "I want you to make me the best blues man that ever lived."

She placed a hand gently on his cheek. "If that's what you want." He nodded, and she smiled, pleased.

"So…how do we…do we shake on it?" Robert asked, stammering.

She shook her head, still smiling, and pulled him in for a deep kiss. When she pulled back, his eyes were closed for a moment. He opened them slowly, and he was alone; he pulled his guitar into his hands and caressed it.

* * *

Present day…

"So it's just like the Robert Johnson legend, right?" Sam asked as they stood next to the Impala; it was a new day and they were back at the crossroads, having just learned of Dr. Pearlman's death. "I mean, selling your soul at the crossroads, kind of deal?"

Dean nodded. "Yeah, except that wasn't a legend. I mean, you know his music." And was surprised when Sam shrugged. "You don't know Robert Johnson's songs? Sam, there's, there's occult references all over his lyrics, I mean, _Crossroad_ _Blues? Me And The Devil Blues? Hellhound On My Trail_?" Sam frowned, Liz sighed, and Dean rolled his eyes. "The story goes, he died choking on his own blood, he was hallucinating, and muttering about big evil dogs."

Now _that_ Sam understood perfectly. "And now it's happening all over again."

"Yeah," Liz agreed.

"We've gotta figure out if anyone else struck any bargains around here," Sam stated.

Dean groaned. "Great. So we've gotta clean up these peoples' mess for 'em? I mean… they're not exactly squeaky clean. Nobody put a gun to their head and forced 'em to play _Let's Make A Deal_."

"So what, we should just leave them to die?" Liz asked, shocked by what her twin was saying since it wasn't like him.

Dean scowled. "Somebody goes over Niagara in a barrel, you gonna jump in and try to save 'em?"

Sam glared at him. "Dean."

"All right. Fine," Dean sighed. "Rituals like this, you've got to put your own photo into the mix, right?" and he pulled a small photo out of the box. "So this guy probably summoned this thing, let's go and see if anyone inside knows him. If he's still alive."

* * *

It wasn't long before the Winchesters were walking up a set of wide, wooden stairs to the fourth floor of an apartment building.

"What's this guy's name again?" Sam asked.

"George Darrow," Dean responded. "Apparently quite the regular at Lloyd's. Though this house probably ain't up next on MTV Cribs, is it?"

"Yeah," Liz agreed. "So whatever kind of deal he made-"

"Wasn't for cash," Dean finished. "Oh, who knows. Maybe this place is full of babes in Princess Leia bikinis." Both Liz and Sam sighed. "No, I'm just saying, this guy's got one epic bill come due. Hope at least he asked for something fun."

Soon, they reached the landing and stopped in front of apartment 4C; the floor was dusted with a fine black powder.

"Look at that."

They crouched down, fingering it.

"What is that, pepper?" Dean wondered.

Just then, the door opened to reveal George, a middle-aged man with graying hair, wearing a grimy t-shirt and open button-down. "Who the _hell_ are you?" he demanded as they quickly stood up.

"George Darrow?" Dean asked.

George glared at them. "I'm not buying anything." And began closing the door.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa, looks like you went for the wrong shaker there," Dean said quickly. "Heh. Usually when you want to keep something evil out you go for the salt."

George stopped and stared at him. "I don't know what you talkin' about."

"Talkin' about this," Dean said, holding up the small picture. "Tell me. You seen that Hellhound yet?" and Liz elbowed him in the ribs.

Sam sighed. "Look. We want to help. Please. Just five minutes," he requested.

Reluctantly, George showed them in and poured himself a glass of whisky. The studio apartment was filled with paintings, completed and half-finished, and a nearby table was holding painting supplies.

"So what is that stuff out front?" Sam asked.

"Goofer Dust," George responded and they look at him blankly. "What, you kids think you know somethin' about somethin' but not Goofer dust?" Chuckling, he tossed Dean a brown sack, tied close with twine, and he caught it.

"Well, we know a little about a lot of things," Dean responded, opening the bag and fingering the dust. "Just enough to make us dangerous."

"What is it?" Liz asked.

"Hoodoo," George answered. "My grandma taught me. Keeps out demons."

Dean nodded. "Demons we know."

"Too well," Liz muttered.

"Well, then. Maybe it'll do you some good," George suggested and walked over to a chair. "Four minutes left."

Both Dean and Liz glanced at Sam, who took the lead.

"Mr. Darrow. We know you're in trouble."

"Yeah, that you got yourself into," Dean added.

"But it's not hopeless, all right?" Sam said, partly to Dean. "There's gotta be something we can do."

George sighed. "Listen. I get that you guys want to help. But sometimes a person makes their bed, they've just got to lie down in it," he informed them. "I'm the one called that demon in the first place."

"What'd you do it for?" Liz asked.

"I was weak," George admitted. "I mean, who don't want to be great? Who don't want their life to mean something? I just…I just never thought about the price."

Dean frowned. "Was it worth it?"

George shook his head, disgusted. "Hell no. 'course, I asked for talent," he explained. "Shoulda gone for fame. I'm still broke, and lonely. Just now I got this pile of paintings don't nobody want. But that wasn't the worst."

"Go on," Sam requested.

"Demon didn't leave," George told them grimly. "I never counted on that. After our deal was done the damn thing stayed at Lloyd's for a week. Just chattin'. Makin' more deals. I tried to warn folks, but, I mean who's goin' to listen to an old drunk?"

"How many others are there?" Liz asked.

George thought for a moment. "Uh, the architect, that doctor lady…I kept up with them, they've been in the papers. At least they got famous."

Dean nodded, that was true. "Who else, George? Come on, think."

George thought again. "One more. Uh, nice guy too. Hudson. Evan, I think. I don't know what he asked for. Don't matter now. We're done for."

"No. No, there's gotta be a way," Sam protested.

George glared and stood up. "You don't get it! I don't _want_ a way!"

Sam was taken aback, along with Liz and Dean. "Look, you don't –"

"I _called_ that thing!" George snapped. "I _brought_ it on myself. I _brought_ it on them. I'm going to hell, one way or another. All I want is to finish my last painting. Day or two, I'm done. I'm just trying to hold them off 'till then. Buy a little time. Okay, guys. Time you went, go help somebody that wants help."

"We can't just-" Sam began.

"_Get out_!" George repeated angrily. "I got work to do."

Sam wasn't about to back down. "You don't really want to die."

George rolled his eyes. "I don't? I'm…I'm tired."

Reluctantly, they left as George started painting.

* * *

That night, Evan Hudson was working at his computer when he heard a familiar loud barking outside his window; quickly he stood and pulled back the curtain, peering out. at that moment, his wife Julie entered.

"Evan? You spying on the neighbors?" she asked.

Evan quickly closed the curtain and shook his head. "No, I uh, I thought I heard something in the yard, but it's nothing. You all ready to go?"

Julie raised her eyebrows. "You know…if I didn't know better I'd say you want me out of the house."

"Of course not," Evan said, smiling slightly. "It's just, you, you've barely seen your sister since she had the baby."

Julie knew that was true. "Well, what are you going to do all weekend?" she asked.

Evan shrugged. "Um, not much, I, I got some bills to pay." He turned and looked at her sadly, crossing the room to take her in his arms. "Come here. I'll miss you."

Julie smiled, returning the hug. "You'd better."

Evan chuckled. "You know I love you, right? Forever."

"Of course. Evan, are you okay?" Julie asked, concerned.

Evan nodded. "Yeah. Yeah, I'm fine. Now get going." And he kissed her again.

Julie returned the kiss. "Okay, I'll call you when I get there." She went to the door, stopped, and turned back. "Hey, sweetie?" Suddenly her face twisted horribly, her skin went gray and cracked, eyes white. Evan recoiled and she returned to normal. "I love you too."

Evan just nodded and watched his wife leave. The question was…would he still be alive when she came home?

* * *

A while later, the Winchesters approached the front door, and Sam knocked, already sensing just how scared the man inside was. A moment later, Evan opened the door.

"Yes?"

"Evan Hudson?" Liz asked, and Evan nodded warily.

"You ever been to a bar called Lloyd's?" Dean asked. "Would have been about ten years ago." Terrified, Evan slammed the door and latched it. "Come on, we're not demons!" he protested.

* * *

Inside, Evan bolted into his office to hide.

* * *

"Any other bright ideas?" Sam asked.

Rolling his eyes, Dean stepped back, set himself, and then kicked the door down in one go; they entered the house.

Outside the room Evan has just entered, Dean prepared to kick down that door too, but Sam caught his leg, stopping him.

"What-" Dean began.

Looking at him pointedly, Sam turned the handle and pushed the door open gently. The room was quiet as they entered.

"Evan?"

Evan jumped out from behind a bookshelf, scared. "Please! Don't hurt me."

Sam held his hands out in a pacifying manner. "We're not going to hurt you, all right? We're here to help you."

"We know all about the genius deal you made," Dean added.

Evan was floored. "What? How?"

"Doesn't matter," Liz told him. "All that matters is, we're trying to stop it."

Evan looked at them, unsure. "How do I know you're not lying?"

"Well, you don't, but you're kinda running low on options there, buddy-boy," Dean pointed out.

Evan swallowed and started pacing. "Can you stop it?"

"Don't know," Sam admitted. We'll try."

Evan trembled at the thought. "I don't want to die."

Dean scoffed. "Of course you don't, not now."

"Dean. Stop," Sam hissed.

Dean ignored him and advanced on the scared man. "What'd you ask for anyway, Evan?" he demanded. "Huh? Never need Viagra? Bowl a perfect game? What?"

Evan stood his ground. "My wife."

Dean laughed. "Right. Gettin' the girl. Well, that's worth a trip to hell for."

"Dean, stop," both Sam and Liz snapped.

"No. He's right, I made the deal," Evan admitted, sighing. "Nobody twisted my arm, that…woman, or whatever she was, at the bar? She said I could have anything I wanted. I thought she was nuts at first, but…I don't know how to…I was desperate."

Sam frowned. "Desperate?"

Evan nodded. "Julie was dying."

"You did it to save her?" Liz asked.

"She had cancer, they'd stopped treatment, they were moving her into hospice, they kept saying…a matter of days," Evan explained. "So yeah, I made the deal. And I'd do it again. I'd have died for her on the spot."

Dean couldn't believe what he was hearing, partly because their dad had done the same thing. "Did you ever think about her in all this?"

Evan frowned. "I did this for her."

Furious, Dean advanced on him. "You sure about that? I think you did it for yourself," he growled. "So you wouldn't have to live without her. But guess what? She's going to have to live without you now. But what if she knew how much it cost? What if she knew it cost your soul? How do you think she'd feel?"

Sam moved forward and placed a hand on Dean's chest, pulling him back so that Liz could get him out of the room. "Okay, that's enough," he ordered and then looked over at Evan. "You just sit tight, all right? We're going to figure this out." and then followed Liz as she dragged Dean into the hallway.

"You all right?" he asked.

Dean grunted as he pulled himself free of his twin. "Yeah, why wouldn't I be? Hey, I got an idea." He then pulled out the Goofer dust. "You both throw George's hoodoo at that Hellhound, keep it away from Evan as long as you can. I'm gonna go to the crossroads and summon the demon."

"What?!" Liz yelped as the bag was shoved into her hands.

Sam was stunned. "Summon - are you nuts?"

"Maybe a little," Dean admitted. "But I can trap it. I can exorcise it, and I can buy us time to figure out something more permanent."

"Yeah, but how much time?" Sam asked.

Dean shrugged. "I don't know, a while. I mean…it's not easy for those suckers to claw their way back from hell and into the sunshine."

"No. No way," Liz protested.

"You're not allowed to say no, Liz," he stated, "and you can't say no either, Sammy, not unless you've got a better idea."

"Dean, you can forget it, all right?" Liz snapped before Sam could react. "I'm not letting you summon that demon."

Dean was surprised that Liz was arguing with him. "Why not?"

"Because we don't like where your head is at right now, that's why not," Liz stated.

Dean frowned. "What are you talking about?"

Sam sighed. "You know, you've been on edge ever since we found that crossroads, Dean, and I think I know why."

"We don't have time for this," Dean grumbled and brushed past Sam, but he was stopped by Liz getting in front of him.

"Dad," she snapped. "You're wantin' to do this because Dad made one of these deals, huh? Hell. You _know_ that Azazel _wants_ you down in hell, too, and I'm not letting you do _anything_ that will cause that to happen."

"I know that, Liz," Dean said quietly. "I know that yellow-eyed demon was involved. I was there when he made the deal. So why can't I do the same to get him back?"

Liz sighed. "Dean, you know very well that if you did something like that, then dad would rip you a new one for doing something that stupid."

_`"I think I hear it!"`_ Evan shouted, frightened. _`"It's outside!"`_

Dean sighed, hating that his siblings were right and that they were also running out of time. "Just keep him alive, okay?"

"Dean…" Sam began.

"Go!" Dean snapped and hurried away.

Sam and Liz exchanged looks, worried that Dean would do something _really_ stupid.

* * *

A/N: I admit, I was seriously freak out when I first watched this episode, and writing out hasn't help stop the freaking out aspect. Darn crossroad demons. R&amp;R everyone!


	3. Chapter 3: CROSSROAD DEMON

Supernatural: Crossroad Blues

A/N: Here's the final chapter, folks. Now will Dean actually make a deal with this demon or not?

Read, review, and enjoy!

Disclaimer: I don't own anything from _Supernatural_ or _Criminal Minds_. I just own any and all characters that I just happen create.

* * *

**CHAPTER THREE: CROSSROAD DEMON**

"_I said unto the fools, Deal not foolishly: and to the wicked, Lift not up the horn__."_

_Psalms 75: 4_

Back at the crossroads, Dean placed a photo of himself in George's box of Hoodoo Magic. He buried it dead center at the crossroads, scraping the dirt over it with his hands. As he stood, a beautiful young woman in a black dress appeared behind him.

"So. What brings a guy like you to a place like this?" she asked and he looked at her appraisingly. "You called me?"

Dean smiled slightly. "I'm just glad it worked."

"First time?" the demon asked.

Dean shrugged. "You could say that."

The demon giggled. "Oh, come on now. Don't sell yourself short. I know all about you, Dean Winchester." And her eyes glowed red for a moment.

Dean wasn't too surprised about this, considering all of the demons he'd drop kicked back into hell. "So, you know who I am."

The demon shrugged. "I get the newsletter."

Although his mind was screaming at him to run, Dean stepped forward slightly. "Well, don't keep me in suspense. What have you heard?"

"Well, I heard you were handsome," the demon admitted. "But you're just _edible_. What can I do for you, Dean?" she asked, sliding up to him.

Dean fought to control his body's desire for the woman in front of him. "Maybe we should do this in my car. Nice and private," he suggested.

The demon smiled. "Sounds good to me." And they strolled to Dean's car.

* * *

Back at the house, Liz was making sure the doors and windows were all locked and Sam was sprinkling the dust in a line before the windows, and then started making a circle of it around Evan, who was standing in the middle of the room.

"What is that stuff?" he asked.

"Goofer dust," Sam answered.

Evan raised his eyebrows, skeptical. "You serious?"

"Yeah," Sam confirmed. "'Fraid so. Look. Believe me, don't believe me, whatever you want. Just whatever you do, stay inside the circle, all right?"

Evan nodded.

* * *

Meanwhile, Dean and the demon were still strolling towards the Impala.

"So I was hoping we could strike a deal," he said causally.

The demon smiled. "That's what I do."

"I want Evan Hudson released from his contract," Dean requested.

"Hmm." The demon thought about it for a moment and then shook her head. "So sorry, darling. That's not negotiable."

"I'll make it worth your while," Dean offered.

Now the demon was interested. "Oh really? What are you offering?"

Dean pointed to himself. "Me."

Hearing this _really_ caught the demon's attention. "Well, well, well. You'd sacrifice your life for someone else's. Like father, like son," she remarked, and Dean eyed her warily.

* * *

Evan was now hugging himself, standing in the middle of the circle that Sam was just finishing. He shook the bag to get out the last grains and tossed it aside.

"That's the last of it."

"Well, let's hope that Dean can get rid of that demon."

* * *

"I know all about your dad's deal," the demon commented. "His life for you and your siblings? Oh, I didn't make the deal myself, but…boy, I _wish_ I had."

Dean gritted his teeth and opened the passenger side door. "After you."

The demon was impressed. "Such a gentleman." As she started to get into the car, she looked down and saw the edge of a symbol extending from below the car. Frowning she glared at Dean. "A Devil's Trap? You've _got_ to be kidding me."

* * *

Suddenly, Evan whirled around at an unheard sound. "You hear that?"

Both Sam and Liz shook their heads, not hearing anything. "No, where?"

Evan heard the demonic growling and looked around for the direction it was coming from. "Right outside the door."

And at that _exact_ moment, the doors began to rattle violently; Liz yelped, ran over to Sam, and they both stepped inside the circle, making sure that they didn't accidentally break it.

Evan, Sam, and Liz were standing side-by-side inside the circle of dust, staring tensely at the rattling door.

"Just don't move, all right?" Sam instructed. "Stay where you are."

* * *

The demon was no longer smiling, instead she was glaring. "You stupid, stupid…I should _rip_ you limb from limb," she snarled, slamming the car door shut and advanced on Dean, who quickly backed up towards a wooden structure.

"Take your best shot," he retorted, but he sounded like he was pleading instead of being defiant.

For a moment, it looked like the demon was going through with her threat, but then she changed her mind and smiled again. "No. I don't think so. I'm not going to put you out of your misery."

"Yeah? Why not?" Dean asked.

"Because your misery's the _whole_ point," she responded, stepping closer. "It's _too_ much fun to watch. Knowing how your daddy died for you, how he _sold_ his soul. I mean, that's gotta hurt." Dean was now backed up against a wooden railing. "It's all you ever think about. You wake up and your first thought is, "I can't do this anymore." You're all lit up with pain. I mean you loved him _so_ much. And it's all your fault." He recoiled as she got more in his face.. "You _blew_ it, Dean! I could have given you what you need."

Dean frowned. "What do I need?"

"Your father," she told him. "I could have brought him back. Your loss. Seeya, Dean. I wish you a nice long life." And she began walking away.

Dean was frozen for several seconds and then called after her. "Hold on."

She stopped and her smile grew bigger.

* * *

The rattling became louder, more violent, and then stopped suddenly.

"Do you still hear it?" Liz asked.

Evan shook his head. "No. Is it over?"

For several seconds it seemed like it was, but then a rumbling sound came from a grating by the wall…one that _didn't_ have any Goofer dust in front of it. They all whirled to stare at it; it burst outward, kicking dust into the room.

"It's here!"

* * *

The demon stopped and turned back; Dean was standing beneath the wooden structure, head down.

"You're lucky I've got a soft spot for lost puppies and long faces," she told him, moving back toward the structure. "I just can't leave you like this. Besides. You didn't call me here to bargain for Evan. Not really."

Dean looked up at her. "Can you bring him back? My dad?"

"Of course I can," she confirmed. "Just as he was. Your dad would live a long and natural life, like he was meant to. That's a promise."

Dean turned to look at her. "What about me?"

"I could give you ten years," she told him, closer to being inside the structure. "Ten _long_ good years with him. That's a lifetime. The family can be together again. John, Dean, Elizabeth, and Sammy. The Winchester family all reunited." And she advanced towards him. "Look. Your dad's supposed to be alive. You're supposed to be dead…and that probably would've happen if my boss hadn't changed his plan the way he did. So we'll just set things straight, put things in their natural order. And you get ten extra years on top. That's a bonus." She was very close to him; suddenly, Dean turned and walked farther back.

"You think you could…" he turned to face her "…throw in a set of steak knives?"

Smirking, the demon took a few steps forward. "You know, this smart-ass self-defense mechanism of yours…" she stopped suddenly and looked up. Above her head, on the ceiling of the wooden structure, was a Devil's Trap. Looking back down, she glared at him. "_Dean_!"

Dean sneered. "Now you're _really_ trapped. That's gotta hurt."

The demon glared at him in a way that made him glad that the statement "if looks could kill" wasn't true. "Let me out. _Now_."

"Sure. We just gotta make a little deal here first," Dean said, walking around the structure. "You call off your Hellhounds and let Evan go. Then I'll let you go."

The demon shook her head. "I can't break a binding contract."

Dean thought about that as he continued walking. "Hmm. And by "can't" you mean "don't want to"? Or that "Azazel won't let you"? Last chance. Evan and his wife get to live to a ripe old age. Going, going…"

The demon began to panic. "Let's talk about this."

"Okay, gone." Dean continued circling around her, pulling out his dad's Journal.

* * *

The barking was growing louder and closer; invisible Hellhounds were surrounding Sam, Liz, and Evan.

Sam grabbed Evan as he got too close to the line. "No! Back inside the circle!"

Deep claw marks were gouged into the floor in a path towards the circle, and they stopped just before the edge.

'_Dean, hurry up!'_ Liz thought, clinging to Sam's arm.

* * *

Dean had opened the journal, and was holding a rosary in one hand.

"What are you doing?" the demon asked warily.

Dean smirked at her. "Oh, you're just gonna go on a little trip. _Way_ down South."

"Forget Evan," she pleaded. "Think of your dad."

'_I _am_ thinking of him.'_ Dean continued circling and began reading. "Regna terrae, cantate Deo…" as he did the exorcism, the demon began to flinch and convulse.

* * *

Back at the house, a wind started up and it began eating away at the protective circle.

Liz, Sam, and Evan were backing away slowly as gaps began appearing.

"Circle's broken. Come on!" Sam shouted.

They pulled Evan out of the room and down the hall; they darted into a storeroom and slammed the door behind them. Sam and Liz braced themselves against it and the Hellhounds started to pound it down.

* * *

"…in potentis Magnife!" Dean continued reading.

"Wait!" the demon screamed.

* * *

At that _exact_ moment, the violent pounding stopped, and everything went quiet. Sam, Liz, and Evan carefully opened the door, and looked around, panting.

* * *

Back at the crossroads, Dean and the demon were locked in a passionate kiss. After several hour-long seconds, she broke it, and he stepped back, blinking in a _very_ stunned manner.

"What the _hell_ was that for?" he demanded, gasping slightly.

"Sealing the deal," the demon responded, still trapped.

Dean shook his head to clear it. "I usually like to be warned before I'm violated with demon tongue."

"Evan Hudson is free," she told him already dreading the type of punishment she would most likely suffer when Azazel learned about this. "He and his wife will live _long_ lives."

Dean frowned. "How do I know you're not lying?"

The demon rolled her eyes, exasperated. "My _word_ is my bond."

Dean didn't look convince. "Oh, really?"

"It is when I make a deal," she stated. "It's the rules. You got what you wanted. Now let me go."

Dean stepped back, glanced up at the Devil's Trap, and fingered the rosary.

The demon stared at him, shocked. "You're gonna double-cross me? Funny how I'm the trustworthy one." Dean shrugged. "You know, you renege? Send me to hell? Sooner or later I'm gonna climb out, and skinning Evan Hudson's gonna be the first thing that I do."

Dean smiled and stashed both the rosary and the journal away; he then climbed up and broke the protective circle above her head. She then stepped out.

"I gotta tell you," she remarked. "You would have never pulled that stunt if you knew."

Dean jumped down and looked at her. "Knew what? That my dad's in hell? I already know that."

The demon chuckled. "True, he _is_ in hell, but you still should've made that deal. See, people talk about hell, but it's just a word. It doesn't even come _close_ to describing the real thing."

"Shut your mouth, bitch," Dean snarled.

The demon pretended to pout. "If you could see your poor daddy? Hear the sounds he makes 'cause he can't even scream?"

Dean began advancing. "How about I send you back there?"

At that _exact_ moment, she threw her head back; black smoke poured out of her mouth as she screamed. Dean backed up until he was against the wooden structure again. _Oh_ how he hated this part. Soon, the demon was gone, and the girl who had hosted it slumped to the ground, confused.

"What…how did I get here?"

* * *

After getting the confused girl back to her home, Dean went back to Evan's place, made sure that the guy was all right, and picked his shaken siblings up.

"I _so_ don't ever want to know what a Hellhound really looks like," Liz moaned. "And I _never_ want to go through something like that _ever_ again."

"No kiddin'," Sam agreed as they all got into the car and they got back on the road.

Dean shrugged. "I guess, but at least Evan can still be with his wife." And both Sam and Liz could agree with that.

After several seconds of silence, Sam spoke up. "Dean?"

Dean glanced at him briefly. "Yeah."

"When you were trapping that demon, you weren't…I mean, it was all a trick, right?" Sam asked nervously. "You never considered actually making that deal, right?"

Dean stared straight ahead, and then glanced out the window, making his siblings worry. He then reached forward and turned the radio on full blast, not saying a word, and both Sam and Liz flinched.

"Turn that down, Dean!"

* * *

A/N: And that's the end of the story, folks! Although, I think on some level, Dean probably was really tempted to make the deal to get their dad back, but he also knew that if he did, their dad would probably skin him alive for doing something so stupid. R&amp;R everyone!


End file.
